Author Peter H. Lee I would draw her face with blood that lies stagnant in my heart. And on the plain wall of a high hall, I would hang it up to gaze. Who has invented the word Farewell? Who causes me to die? Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments